


Empok Nor Redux

by MKK



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Episode Related, M/M, Minor Character Death, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKK/pseuds/MKK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-working of the DS9 episode "Empok Nor" with one major twist - it is now Julian Bashir, rather than Nog, who accompanies O'Brien and Garak to Empok Nor.  Garak had barely begun a very tentative pursuit of Bashir on DS9 but his feelings for him run deep, so the thought of Bashir with O'Brien is already enough to send him over the edge - and the psychotropic drug infecting him finishes the job.  Warning: Bashir gets hurt in this.  By Garak, unfortunately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago, there was a fanzine called "Different Odds" in which various authors re-imagined the events of "Improbable Cause/The Die is Cast" with Bashir taking the place of Odo in Tain's little torture test for Garak. A fascinating concept and I really loved a couple of those stories when I discovered them - there were also a few additional ones on line in the same theme. But much as I want to travel that path, there were/are just too many good interpretations already and I didn't see what I could add yet. But I've read very little based on "Empok Nor" and I always felt it too was crying out for a re-imagining with Bashir in place of Nog (of all people.) That testy little exchange between Garak and O'Brien on the runabout - can it get any more obvious than that? The story desperately needed a Garak/Bashir theme! A rougher one this time, though, so be warned. The relationship had barely begun, and now Garak's drug-induced xenophobia combines with his feelings of possessiveness and competition in a dangerous way.

"So, doctor, have you had time to start 'Shadow of the Evening'?" Elim Garak asked brightly, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes on the face of his human companion, Julian Bashir. "I hope you'll say yes."

"Yes," Bashir smiled, enjoying the Cardassian's eager enthusiasm. "Yes, indeed I have. And I found it refreshingly -" A crash sounded in the distance. "Refreshingly different, for a Cardassian epic." Another crash, loud enough this time to claim the attention of both men. Bashir called out, "Quark, can you tell us when -" A third crash, even louder than the previous two. The Ferengi owner of the bar scurried over to the table.

"Sorry - I'm very sorry about this," he apologized toothily. "I was told this would be a minor repair job, lasting no more than an hour at most -" The sound of sawing, as if a large animal was snoring in the wall panel, caught their attention next. "And I'm sure it will be over within mo-" Just then, silence, eerie and total, descended on the three. Quark smiled. "Ahhh. That's better, I was assured the inconvenience would be only temporary. Please accept my apologies, gentlemen, and allow me treat you to one drink on the house for your trouble." That was more of a financial sacrifice for Quark than it would normally be, as the house was resoundingly empty at that moment except for Bashir's table. The two diners nodded, and Quark rushed off to the bar.

"Doctor - you were saying," Garak prompted, as if nothing at all had just occurred.

"Hmm? Oh yes - as I was saying. Right. I think what I found most refreshing about the Shadow novel is that it portrayed a Cardassia a little different from the one I would have expected."

"How so?"

"Well... please don't take this the wrong way, Garak, but I find - well, I find Cardassian society rather rigid at times, rather harsh, and not particularly welcoming of outsiders. Purely my subjective impression, of course. But in this novel, there are instances of real understanding and almost - well, kindness - toward other species."

"And that surprises you?"

"Well, it doesn't surprise me EXACTLY," Bashir backtracked, worried that he might be causing offense. "It's not that I don't have a favorable view of your people." Lord knows how he'd have been able to develop one, he mused, based on the literary evidence with which Garak had presented him so far, but he could dream. "But in this case, I'm really very impressed with the selflessness of the main character. He seems to really care about the survivors under his command - even the non-Cardassians."

"Of course he does, doctor," Garak purred. "Cardassians pride themselves not only on their fairness but on their compassion." Good. No matter that the novel was not highly regarded on his world precisely because it depicted such an unconventional approach to offworlders - no matter that very few Cardassians would ever even consider befriending a member of another race to the extent that he himself had done. He wanted very much for Julian Bashir to not only respect his people but to admire them - and, in so doing, learn to respect and admire a certain Cardassian ex-intelligence agent who was even now doing his best to appear as kind and as understanding as possible.

The truth was that Elim Garak was in love, deeply and completely, with Doctor Julian Bashir - the truth was also that he had never for an instant felt that Bashir harbored anything but friendly curiosity toward him in return, with possibly the vaguest of vague stirrings of physical attraction - but even that was debatable, as Garak didn't quite trust himself to tell the difference between signs of positive attraction or negative fascination in the human. So he could rely only on his instincts, and his instincts told him to continue pursuing but to temper that pursuit in ways more calculated to appeal to a man like Bashir. Here they were in Quark's, for example, enjoying a meal of Earth foods from Italy - and here they were discussing possibly the most non-Cardassian of all the Cardassian repetitive epics he could have chosen. So far, at least, his slow and hopeful and decidedly non-Cardassian pursuit seemed to be going very well indeed.

Until a sound reminiscent of an explosion caused all the glassware on the table to jump, and Bashir along with it. Conversation came to an abrupt and decisive halt. "Quark!" Bashir groaned, "You promised us there'd be no more noise."

"I had been assured there wouldn't be," Quark bobbed his head sympathetically as he placed the drinks on the table. "In fact -" His next words were drowned out in a cacophony of hammering.

"In fact - I believe we'd like our meals wrapped to take with us," Garak smiled as he started to rise. "And we'll take the drinks too, please."

"No alcohol on the Promenade," Quark began to reply, already contemplating the possibility of pouring the servings back into the bottles and reclaiming the cost... But his two patrons simply raised their glasses, took long swallows, and smiled into each others' eyes. Quark sighed as he carried the plates back to the kitchen. How could those two possibly not see what was going on between them, when every single inhabitant of the station could, with the possible exception of Sisko and O'Brien - Sisko because he was oblivious to it and O'Brien because he refused to admit it. The two men departed and Quark disconsolately shuffled over in the direction of the loudest sounds. "Chief! Chief..." he sighed, as O'Brien's curly head emerged from a wall panel. "You told me you'd be finished by now. I'm losing customers. I mean, look for yourself - the bar is empty!"

"Sorry, Quark." O'Brien didn't sound at all sorry, however. "I didn't mean to take this long. But there's only so much I can improvise for this conduit - what I need is an entire plasma manifold system. A Cardassian plasma manifold system, in reasonably good shape and with all the necessary specs. Got any idea of where I can get one?"

Quark sighed again. Of course he didn't. But he gamely tried to think. "Ah... Garak's shop?" O'Brien huffed in impatience and began hammering again. "Dukat's ship?" O'Brien hammered even louder. "Salvage area below decks?" O'Brien stopped hammering, lost in thought. "Catalog from -"

"Quark, that's not a bad idea," O'Brien mused, sitting back against the access panel.

"A catalog?"

"No - a salvage area. But not here - I know we don't have anything like that here. I've explored that rubble pretty thoroughly. But there are other places to get this kind of equipment - other Cardassian stations just like this one."

"Chief," Quark smiled, barely hiding his amusement, "I highly doubt that the Cardassians are going to let you march into one of their stations and just take what you need. I don't even think they'll let you buy it. You won't be allowed anywhere near it."

"They'll let me if the station was abandoned. Not all of them were surrendered like this one - I know of a few that were just left to decay when there wasn't any more need for them. Empok Nor, for example. That's the closest one."

"Empok Nor?"

"In the Trivas system - not far at all. We could be there in a day. Quark, you're a genius!" O'Brien clapped him on the back with a grease-covered hand, and Quark gave a painful but pleased smile. At least the hammering had stopped. For now.

 

"Absolutely not," Sisko intoned, staring at O'Brien with barely-concealed irritation. "Absolutely not."

"But sir -"

"No. It's far too dangerous."

"But the station was abandoned - not a soul is there now, and I doubt if a soul would ever care we were there either. The Dominion isn't bothering with the Trivas system either, sir. We'll just take what we need and go. It's no different from looking through their garbage - how could they object to that?"

"They may not want us to see what they throw away, Chief. Besides, you know as well as I do that the Cardassians would never just abandon a base. They'll either try to damage it, as they did here, or they'll booby-trap it so no one else can learn their secrets. Odo's already gone over some of this with me. He says it was standard practice."

O'Brien's face fell. "Yes, I'm aware of that - problem." He waited a beat before continuing. "However, I have a good idea that there's a way around it. Many of those traps were rigged to target only non-Cardassians. So, if you'll allow me to take Garak along..."

"He may not want to go along."

"I'm sure you can persuade him, sir." He watched as the corners of Sisko's mouth turned up in the faintest ghost of a smile.

"I believe I can, true. However, if he should miss one, or if something unexpected happens... We can't afford to lose you, Chief. And, much as I hate to say it, we can't afford to lose Garak. Not now."

"I don't believe, between Garak and our tricorder scans, that there's much risk, really. And the chance of finding a plasma manifold system still operational - well, I can't overstate how critical it would be. And we won't be there alone - I'm bringing two security officers as well as two engineers."

"It's that important, Chief?"

O'Brien nodded.

"All right." Sisko thought for a moment more. "I'll agree to let you go, on the condition that you take one more person, in addition to those four and Garak."

"Who?"

"Doctor Bashir. I want medical help available right away if anything happens, to any one of you."

"Of course. I agree." Privately, O'Brien did not totally agree - the thought of being in such close quarters, even temporarily, with Bashir and what appeared to be - if bizarre and unspoken speculation was true - his new Cardassian distraction was unsettling. Bashir barely mentioned Garak during the holosuite adventures he and O'Brien shared, which was all just as well with the chief - but there was still something disturbing, some uncomfortable feeling that came over him when he saw the doctor and the Cardassian together now. Something, in other words, was probably going on - but what? Was it simple curiosity - Bashir, after all, professed a great passion for the new and exotic and Garak was certainly nothing if not that. Or was it - No. O'Brien shook his head. Absolutely not that. His friend Julian was a ladies' man. Through and through. Garak, though, was - what? 

Not that it mattered. What he most needed to know was whether Empok Nor housed a reasonably intact plasma manifold system, and if he needed to bring both Garak and Bashir along on that mission, so be it. For the moment, at least, he neither needed to nor wanted to know anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

A day later, O'Brien stood at the entrance to the runabout, greeting his temporary crew as they reported for the mission. Two engineers, Pechetti and Boq'ta, a human and a Bolian respectively, were already inside the runabout, pleased at the break in their daily routines and equally as pleased to be armed with phasers instead of wrenches for the time being. Two security officers, Stolzoff and Amaro, made their way toward him next, phaser rifles slung over their shoulders, a determined set to their faces - even abandoned Cardassian stations presented a challenge that neither one of them especially relished, after their experiences investigating and disarming all the various surprises left behind on DS9 not so long ago. 

But where was Garak? O'Brien peeked around the corner but still no sign of him. Was it possible that he had come to his senses, or decided to challenge Sisko after all, and refused to join them? He had certainly seemed less than enthusiastic about the project when O'Brien had contacted him the previous evening - that is, until he heard that the doctor would also be joining them. Then a smile was combined with a change of attitude virtually impossible to miss, and suddenly all was well and Garak was completely cooperative, to O'Brien's grudging but still welcome relief. Too bad Sisko had wasted the promise of a larger workroom on him; it appeared all the commander would have needed to do was promise him the doctor's company. O'Brien audibly snorted. Just then, Garak appeared at the end of the airlock, satchel in hand, looking expectantly through the doorway.

"No, he's not here yet. He'll be along in a minute."

"'He,' Chief? He who?" Blue Cardassian eyes blinked innocently.

"'He' Doctor Bashir, that's who. I was told he's on his way. He wasn't quite sure what to bring along on an expedition like this." 

"Oh, I'm sure there won't be any trouble," Garak proclaimed as he shouldered past O'Brien into the ship. "The station was never very critical to Cardassian defenses, so I don't think preserving its integrity was a high priority either."

"I hope you're right. We don't need any trouble, just a plasma manifold in reasonably good shape and the chance to get out of there quickly."

"I'm sure we'll have it. I'm sure everything will go very smoothly." Garak bowed and settled himself into a seat, to the less than approving stares of the two engineers who halted their conversation at his arrival. He closed his eyes in resignation. He hadn't been expecting a welcome with open arms, but still... He had hoped that his willingness to possibly even risk his life to assist his new colleagues would have counted for something. Thus, he was pleasantly surprised - almost shocked, even - when Chief O'Brien himself entered the cabin and addressed him loudly enough so that his words could be overheard by everyone.

"And - Garak -"

"Yes?" Garak watched him uncertainly.

"I forgot to thank you for coming along with us. Your presence here is critical to our success . We all know that. We all appreciate the sacrifice you're making. All of us." A pointed glance at the crew centered particularly on Amaro.

"Thank you, Chief." The Cardassian inclined his head. "But I don't think we have much to worry about." 

O'Brien nodded and withdrew, his purpose evidently achieved. Just then, in a flurry of movement and disorganization, Julian Bashir clambered on board, several large medical bags slung over his shoulders, several tricorders in his hands. "I hope you weren't waiting too long for me!"

"Waiting for you? Oh no, no, certainly not - we're not due to leave for another -" O'Brien checked his chronometer, "- twenty seconds."

"Yes - I'm sorry about that," Bashir grinned. "I went over so many scenarios in my mind that I started to second-guess every piece of equipment I had planned to bring along - until I decided to just bring everything." 

Garak had risen to his feet and was assisting the doctor with one of the bags. "Oh, I'm sure none of this will be necessary. I highly doubt we'll run into much more than a few very hungry voles. Still, a vole bite can become infected..." He looked meaningfully into the doctor's eyes as he took his hand. "And that could be very, very painful." O'Brien cleared his throat.

"Well, that's why we have the doctor here." He deliberately slid in between the two men, breaking their contact and almost pushing them into their seats. "I say we get moving. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back, safe and sound."

"Agreed" - and the occupants of the cabin quickly reorganized themselves as departure preparations began. Garak watched, interested but detached, and Bashir stared at the viewscreen with the eager enthusiasm he still displayed when he was out in space - and when, in addition, he was not casting sidelong glances, discreet but still detectable, at his Cardassian neighbor. O'Brien sighed. The sooner they could get back, indeed.

 

Several hours later. The rather routine flight, all things considered, was in progress, and boredom had begun to set in, once the anticipation of danger and the accompanying adrenalin had dissipated. O'Brien read a padd, the security officers talked in low whispers in the alcove at the back of the cabin, the Bolian engineer, Boq'ta, piloted the runabout while the other engineer, Pechetti, dozed. Garak and Bashir were deep in contemplation, heads bent low over a kotra board, Garak radiating easy confidence despite the evident discomfort of his opponent.

"Your move, doctor."

"I know. I know." Bashir thought a second more. "There. No... no... All right. There." He placed a game piece directly in front of a rather formidable little row of defense he had worked some time to set up. Garak smiled and shook his head.

"Ah. Still protecting all of your pieces. Doctor, haven't I already explained to you that kotra is a game of bold strategy and decisive action?"

"You did." Bashir grinned shyly as Garak picked up one of his own pieces and set it down at a spot almost edging into Bashir's "territory." "But I felt it was more important to protect what I have than to risk going too far and losing everything."

"But such a strategy precisely ensures that you'll never gain anything either, and in fact run the very real risk of losing everything anyway, one piece at a time. Far better to strike out at your opponent and surprise him. Perhaps even cause him to retreat."

"I don't want to cause you - I mean, my opponent - to retreat. I want to preserve what I already have and possibly even lure him into a trap - trick him into giving something up." He grinned again. "Once he lets his defenses down."

"But he may never let his defenses down, my dear doctor. He may simply be lulling you into a false sense of security as he sizes you up and prepares to strike. And trust me, once that happens, you will truly be powerless to resist." Garak grinned back, eyeridges shadowing his face in the overhead lights. "There will be absolutely nothing you can do to stop him." Bashir shuddered imperceptibly, a little thrill coursing through him.

"I don't know about that, Garak." He licked his lips nervously, then smiled with more assurance. "There's power and wisdom in waiting, biding one's time, giving the opponent the chance to question his confidence..."

"His confidence may simply reflect the fact that he sees a chance to take control. To demonstrate to the opponent who the stronger man is. To give him the opportunity to recognize the superior force and submit to it before he's compelled to -" At that moment, O'Brien, with another loud clearing of his throat, called over to the two of them.

"I hate to break up your little - game - but we're going to need to start planning for our arrival at the station." It was obvious to all that the breaking up of the game was indeed the point of his interruption. Garak, annoyed, responded.

"There's plenty of time for that later, Mr. O'Brien. We can easily finish our game - in fact, I believe I'm very close to declaring victory. As expected." Bashir smiled; O'Brien exhaled in irritation and set down his padd. 

"As expected? Because you're a Cardassian, I suppose."

"No - because I'm much better at this game than our cautious friend." O'Brien harrumphed again. "I beg your pardon, Chief? Would you like to test me? Play a game of kotra with me? You seem to have an issue with my 'Cardassian' status."

"Certainly not. That's not what I meant. But I have no time for games right now."

"I think you do. I think the hero of Setlik Three has plenty of time to vanquish yet another poor Cardassian." Bashir, startled at the sudden change in topic, stared at Garak with wide eyes. O'Brien bristled.

"'Poor' Cardassian? On Setlik Three? That was an entire regiment, Garak - we were lucky to escape with our lives. And besides," he reached for the padd again, "I don't want to talk about that. I'm an engineer, not a soldier. I have no interest in re-living that part of my life, with you or with anyone. Not even in a game."

"No interest?" Garak was fully engaged now, the round of kotra with Bashir all but forgotten. "No interest at all? Really? Do you mean to tell me that all the hours that you and the doctor spend in the holosuites are NOT used to re-enact glorious battles, but instead are spent in doing - what? What, exactly?" 

"Why, we - we enjoy historical..."

"Historical what? You fight, and I'm sure you fight to win - do you fight Cardassians in any of those simulations?"

"We - Garak, this is really not relevant right now. We have a lot to do before we reach Empok -" Garak interrupted him.

"If, as you claim, you two don't use the holosuites for battles, then what do you use them for?" Over his shoulder, O'Brien could see that the security officers had ended their conversation and, grinning, were looking in toward the cabin from the back; Bashir's expression was studiously neutral and the engineers were ignoring the entire exchange. Seeming to, anyway. "After all, Chief, that's an awful lot of time for two men to spend alone together, men who seem to have no clear reason to be there..." O'Brien reddened.

"Garak, just knock it off, all right? You're trying to bait me - whatever I say is going to anger or offend you, so let's not talk about it." He dramatically raised the padd to nearly eye level and pretended to be completely focused on it. Bashir cast Garak an amused, sideways glance; Garak gave him a vague smile in return but remained somewhat agitated from the exchange. 

"Can you at least admit you still enjoy being a soldier? At least in the holosuites? Or am I correct in my other speculations?"

"All right. I still enjoy the occasional fight." O'Brien never raised his eyes. "But it's just a game in there. Just a game. Nothing to do with real life."

"So is kotra. This is just a game, chief. Nothing to do with real life." O'Brien, with a "huh," resumed his reading. Garak, wanting to continue but with no encouragement, finally lapsed into an uneasy silence. Bashir closed his eyes but reached out and quietly patted the Cardassian's arm. Garak took the hint and sat back, subdued but not mollified. 

Empok Nor was now less than two hours away.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour later, while Bashir happily took his turn piloting the runabout and Garak sat nearby quietly sewing and just as quietly stealing glances at the intriguing human doctor in the unaccustomed seat at the helm, O'Brien met with his engineers to decide on a list of priorities for the mission. Three categories of salvaged goods seemed to logically present themselves: must-haves (the plasma manifold and recoilers, the whole purpose of the mission,) could-use items (EPS matrix converters, if any were available,) and then an extensive number of would-be-nice objects, all the way from bypass displacers to - and here O'Brien drew the line and cut off all discussion - Cardassian emblems and insignia. Pechetti would have to add to his collection some other way.

Bashir, in his new role as pilot, was thrilled to also be able to call out, "Empok Nor in range, Chief!" At that, all discussion in the cabin stopped and the mood became less convivial and much more grim. Garak put away his sewing; Bashir slid out of the seat and let O'Brien take over. Scans revealed no lifesigns - not that any were expected, but it was still a relief - but O'Brien deemed it safest to dock at an upper pylon rather than beam aboard, right into deliberate traps or other unknown hazards.

"And now..." He looked meaningfully at Garak.

Garak nodded. "I understand. Show time. I'm ready to disembark."

"Amaro will help you into the suit -" Which the security officer did, albeit a little grudgingly - Garak couldn't help wondering if he was expected to test out the vacuum of the station as well as the booby traps. 

Bashir stood to the side, trying not to let the concern he felt appear on his face - despite all of Garak's reassurances and the results of their own scans, this was a hazardous situation, full of unknowns, and he wondered if it was really so important for Garak to risk his life for a mere plasma manifold. But, on the other hand, the decision was made by others with far more expertise, and Garak himself no doubt welcomed the chance to prove himself in some way, to show that he was not only planning to make peace with his new Federation hosts but even assist them. To, in other words, demonstrate the philosophy of the book he and Bashir had been discussing, and prove that not all Cardassians were suspicious of and unwilling to help outsiders. 

Still, Bashir knew he'd be more than grateful when this whole mission was over and they were back on DS9, in relative safety. He resolved to tell Garak a little more - just a little more - of what he was starting to mean to him. If that meant intruding just a fraction into the Cardassian's personal territory - if that meant, in effect, making a bold move and dispensing with cautious advances and retreats - so be it. This dancing around the issue was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and it took a situation like this to prove it. He was worried for Garak's safety not only as a doctor and a team member, but as a friend - as more than a friend. As, just possibly -

"Wish me luck," Garak proclaimed through the faceplate of the suit, to everyone on the runabout but with a special, lingering glance at Bashir. Then he walked into the airlock and disappeared from view.

 

"Welcome to Empok Nor, gentlemen!" Garak gestured expansively toward the interior of the station still flickering to life, as the crew of the runabout - minus Bashir, who was going to remain on board - trudged through the airlock sometime later. 

"Thanks for having us," O'Brien muttered back.

"Take whatever you need - my house is your house." Bashir, hearing this, grinned at Garak's uncharacteristically jovial mood - then again, the Cardassian was no doubt in his element right now, with the success of the mission resting entirely on his shoulders, and who could blame him for reveling in that fact just a little longer. He had checked for traps, had re-activated power and life support, and had brought the temperature of the station up to at least tolerable human standards. What was not his fault, and which no one knew, was that he had also re-activated two members of the Third Battalion, First Order, in stasis in the infirmary. The house was not at all Garak's house.

But for the moment, it was time to separate into teams and search out the objects O'Brien, and by extension DS9 itself, had come there to retrieve. "I'm taking Stolzoff with me to look for the must-have's," he said. "Doctor Bashir is going to stay on the runabout and monitor all of our communications - we can't risk having him stumble into a Cardassian trap." Bashir's face fell - and so did Garak's. And was that choice of words deliberate? "Pechetti and Amaro - you get the could-use list. Garak and Boq'ta - the would-be-nice. Garak has disabled the central security net but there could still be hazards, so watch yourselves, stay in touch with the team, and begin exploring. Quickly."

"Chief -"

"Yes?" O'Brien turned impatiently to face Garak. "We've got a lot to do -"

"I know, but - wouldn't it be wisest for Doctor Bashir to come along with my team? After all, he would be more effective if he were right here with us, and since I'm a Cardassian and no doubt safest from some of the dangers we might run into here -"

"No, Garak. Yes, you're the least likely to be affected by any traps targeting Cardassians. But the most critical part of this expedition is to retrieve the plasma manifold, so if I were bringing some extra hands, they'd be with me, not you. I'd rather have the doctor where he can reach any one of our teams quickly." Garak nodded his acquiescence; Bashir, pleased but also a little embarrassed, dutifully retreated all the way back into the runabout and took a seat at the console. O'Brien, no doubt almost as embarrassed by the undertones of what had just occurred, kept up a determined pace and didn't dwell upon the fact that Bashir, as his superior officer, could have chosen to go along with Garak anyway. 

It was actually rather satisfying to be able to keep those two apart, at least for the moment, and keep his friend safely on the ship - and away from the Cardassian. O'Brien ruefully reflected that he was being unfair - it was a Cardassian who was making this whole salvage operation possible and a Cardassian station that was supplying them with critical equipment. Cardassians, in other words, were helping and not hurting them. Still, it was good to have this measure of control over Bashir and Bashir's no doubt poorly-considered preferences. For the moment.

Garak and Boq'ta walked to the darkened Promenade, shadows and muffled noises causing them to subconsciously stay very close together. Garak was not oblivious to the fact that not only had O'Brien kept Bashir away, he had also paired Garak with the only other non-human on the mission - was it a possible but hidden acknowledgement of the fact that those two, to human eyes, were the most expendable? In any event, it could certainly be taken as an acknowledgement that it would be best and easiest for the humans to work only with other humans - and to keep the"aliens" together. He doubted that O'Brien had really thought that whole aspect through in such detail, but that was the effect, and it appeared that the hero of Setlik Three wasn't immune to a little uneasiness where such matters were concerned. 

He was deep in this train of thought, in fact, when he and Boq'ta almost simultaneously noticed an eerie blue light emanating from the door of the infirmary - a glow that seemed to be independent of the emergency lights bathing the rest of the station. They moved forward to investigate, and Garak, placing his hand on the doorway, felt a sticky gel between his fingers - the substance was blue in color and almost glowing, like the light. Boq'ta saw his expression, stopped, and scanned the gel.

"This is a biogenic compound, Garak."

"Biogenic? Here? I wonder why." No answer. They moved further into the darkened room. "Ah. That's why." Two stasis tubes, filled with the gel, glowed in the light of the wall panels. Those tubes were otherwise empty. That told him almost everything he needed to know. A third tube, partially damaged, contained the dessicated remains of a Cardassian, evidently a soldier. With a sinking feeling, Garak picked up a badge inscribed with an insignia that told him the rest. "Third Battalion, First Order. This is bad." Boq'ta only stared. 

 

O'Brien and Stolzoff worked gamely to free up the plasma manifold but the situation required more resources than they had brought along. O'Brien contacted Bashir on the runabout and asked him to locate another tool they required - while they spoke, he could almost see the doctor's eyes widen with shock as he heard the sudden panic in his voice. "Chief - the docking clamps have been released - I didn't touch anything - there's some kind of energy buildup - I can't - wait - I can't get control of -"

Instinct, pure instinct. O'Brien bellowed, "Get off of there! Beam off of there NOW! NOW!" Stolzoff had run to the window closest to them which revealed a partial view of the runabout, purposefully moving away from the station and then, seconds later, exploding into a thousand tiny pieces. Stolzoff, knowing the thought was ridiculous, couldn't help searching anyway for the sight of a body also hurtling outward from the blast, eerily silent in the vacuum. Nothing - nothing except Bashir's voice, now on Empok Nor, sounding jittery with panic, calling down a passageway to them.

"I'm here!" O'Brien closed his eyes in relief. "Chief - what happened? What was that? A defense system of some kind?" He ran up to them, still shaking but also wildly animated, filled with nervous energy that he couldn't channel. "I very nearly didn't make it - if you hadn't told me to get out of there, I'd be dead now!"

O'Brien had sunk down to the ground and was staring bleakly at his companions. "I never thought... I never thought there'd be a trap like that, though. I thought all the dangers would be confined to the actual station. I thought you were safe. I'm sorry, doctor. I thought you'd be safe." Bashir, quickly understanding, clasped his shoulder.

"No one expected that, Chief. No one. You took the proper precautions. And don't forget, you're the one who realized what was happening even before I did. You got me off of there."

"Stilll..." Garak and Boq'ta, Pechetti and Amaro ran up to the group; all but Garak were slightly winded and also slightly in shock after feeling the blast wave and knowing what it probably represented. The mutual relief at the sight of Bashir was palpable; Garak, however, wore a look more of anger. Anger focused on one man - O'Brien. Neither O'Brien nor Bashir could miss it.

"You left him there, Chief, when I told you he'd be much safer with me."

"Garak -" Bashir began. The Cardassian ignored him.

"You could easily have had him killed, you know. It would have been your fault." O'Brien, still a little dazed, didn't answer.

"Garak, this is not appropriate right now," Bashir said again. "I needed to stay there to help any one of you - I couldn't risk walking into a trap myself. You know that."

"No, you're right. You're right, doctor." Garak smiled; it held not a trace of good will. "You're right. Far better to have had you destroyed with the runabout."

"This is pointless right now." O'Brien had finally gathered his wits and stood, determined and driven once again. "No more accusing each other of bad decisions - no one could have predicted this. We're trapped here now, for whatever reason, and we have to figure out why it happened and what we can do about it. "

"Oh, I can tell you why it happened," Garak replied, his voice unnaturally calm again. "I know exactly why it happened." He opened his hand and showed the group the insignia resting on his palm. Pechetti gasped. 

"That's from the Third Battalion, First Order. Cardassians. Their motto was 'Death to All.'"

"Precisely."

"But they can't still be here," Amaro said. "We scanned the station thoroughly. There wasn't a single lifesign."

"Nevertheless, there were two members of the Third Battalion left here, two left alive, that is. In stasis. We found the tubes." The rest of the group, now silent, took this in.

"So you're saying... So you're saying we have two Cardassian soldiers roaming the station, trying to kill us, after destroying our only means of escape..." The group remained silent, until O'Brien resolutely stood a little straighter. "All right. Then that's what we're dealing with now. We have to find a way off of here while evading them." He held out his tricorder, which registered nothing. "These won't work - I assume they've set up a dampening field so we can't locate them." 

Garak nodded. "It's what I would do." Bashir glanced at him briefly in mild surprise, then looked back to O'Brien.

"So we need to contact DS9 in some way, and fast. I think, without the capability of voice communication, pulses from the deflector grid would easily be powerful enough to be picked up back there."

"Like an old-fashioned telegraph, Chief," Boq'ta nodded. "A series of pulses in a pattern."

"Right. Just like that. I'm sure we'll need to boost the power, though, after all this time of zero maintenance. Pechetti, you and Stolzoff head for the habitat ring - get the microfusion reactor back on line." Pechetti nodded. "Boq'ta - you'll need to re-align the magnetic flow field in conduit G-four. Amaro will watch your back." Boq'ta nodded and he and Amaro cautiously began heading out.

"Doctor - you and Garak are with me. We need to set up the signal generator in cargo bay 4." Bashir, relieved, moved into place next to the Cardassian. "Everyone - stay off your communicators unless it's absolutely necessary - we don't want to give away our positions. Let's go." 

As they made their way quietly along the corridor, Garak kept up a very low but very steady monologue; Bashir listened with half an ear as he worriedly scanned the darkened passages all around them. "There's got to be something else going on. Why would those two be left behind, all this time, and in stasis? No one is that fanatical, not even Cardassian soldiers. Not even the Third Battalion. No one." O'Brien only grunted.


	4. Chapter 4

All the precautions the team could think of didn't prevent the first casualties. All the careful silence, the furtive maneuvering in the dark, the working only in pairs and keeping watch. Pechetti was dead, and Stolzoff too - Stolzoff managed to gasp a few words into her communicator before she, likewise, succumbed to her injuries. O'Brien, Garak and Bashir ran and found the bodies, Bashir cursing the fact that no matter what condition the two were in, all of his medical supplies had been left on the runabout and were now dispersed into space. He hoped he could improvise something from the station's Cardassian infirmary - but that proved unnecessary, as both victims were dead by the time he reached them. From another part of the station, Amaro and Boq'ta joined them and stared in shock at the bodies. 

"All right. Let me think." O'Brien looked suddenly much older, much wearier, much more defeated - until his courage re-asserted itself and he visibly regrouped and took command. "Garak, you go with Boq'ta and Amaro - I think they're more vulnerable and not as well protected as I am in the cargo bay. I'll take the doctor back with me and -"

"No."

"No? What do you mean?"

"That should be obvious, Chief. I mean no." Garak winced and rubbed his forehead, then glared again at O'Brien. "You're giving me a headache. I'm not going to sneak around helplessly and wait to become a victim too - I'm going to find and neutralize the Cardassian soldiers. To stop this torture once and for all. They've killed two of us and very nearly killed a third - I'm not going to let this continue. And I'm taking the doctor with ME."

Amaro stepped forward. "You heard the chief. We stay together. That goes for the doctor - and, much as I hate to say it, that goes for you too." He bravely faced Garak, who had moved a few paces closer to him in return. O'Brien intervened.

"Let him go."

"What?"

"I said let him go. Alone, if you insist, Garak - but Bashir stays with us."

"I don't think so. I'd rather keep him where I can see him - where I know his mind won't be poisoned by you. The Killer of Setlik Three. Maybe you ought to come with us too - come and kill Cardies just like in the old days." His eyes glittered; O'Brien, not sure quite how to handle this new challenge in the present circumstances, turned and addressed the others in a pointed effort to ignore him. 

"Bashir, you're with Boq'ta and Amaro. The three of you -"

"No, Chief," Boq'ta interrupted, "no, he stays with you. You're not going to face them alone." The implication was clear - Garak was free to face the soldiers alone and no one, not even Bashir, was willing any more to contradict O'Brien and stop him. Garak stared pleadingly into Bashir's eyes; Bashir looked away. So he quickly departed, sensing only that all four of his remaining teammates were relieved at his departure; what he didn't know was that they were also both hopeful and trusting that he would find a way to do something effective. He, Garak - the Cardassian on their side. All Garak could sense now, however, was their fear of him. And he was no longer unhappy with that.

He also sensed something else - the almost maniacal overconfidence of the Cardassian soldier he lured into the infirmary and outsmarted by hiding in a stasis tube - he then burst out and shot him, but instead of the deep remorse he expected, or even a nervous physical reaction to the shock of killing, all he experienced was a pleased sense of satisfaction. "That felt good," he muttered to the body in Kardasi. "Farewell, my worthy opponent. That felt wonderful."

 

"Chief..." Bashir began, as O'Brien struggled at an open panel in the near-darkness, "why is Garak suddenly bringing up Setlik Three? What's the point? I've never heard him even mention it before."

"To get under my skin," O'Brien muttered. "And he's doing a damn fine job of it too."

"But why are you letting him bother you? You were a hero. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I don't like having to kill." The words hung in the air, but not for long.

"You did a lot of killing," Garak purred from the shadows, causing both Bashir and O'Brien to jump. "But, then again, so have I. Here's proof of my latest example." He handed O'Brien an insignia he had taken from the soldier. "Here's my trophy. Your trophy, that is, as commander of this mission. Congratulations."

"Garak -" O'Brien began, "How did you -"

"It wasn't as easy at first as I thought. But then I realized that I simply had to outsmart him. Not enormously difficult a task, after all, as the soldiers aren't operating rationally. They've each been given massive doses of a psychotropic drug."

"Psychotropic drug?!" Bashir was aghast.

"Yes, doctor. I assume it was some sort of military experiment. It seems to amplify their more, ah, xenophobic tendencies, which is why they've been trying to kill us. But I got one first."

Bashir tried to overlook the glittering coldness in Garak's eyes. "But - Garak, that doesn't make sense. You're a Cardassian - why are they targeting YOU?"

"I'm also assuming the experiment failed, that these two were out of control - well, the three who were left - and the military couldn't justify killing them outright, so they were abandoned here, possibly until a cure was found, possibly forever."

O'Brien took this in. "Then... then if the Cardassian military itself couldn't find a way to 'neutralize' them, what chance do we have?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Chief. I'll find a way. It seems you brought this simple tailor along for a reason even you never expected." Garak's eyes were almost blazing with determination now; O'Brien couldn't help but notice.

"That's not the face of a tailor," he murmured despite himself.

"I'm not a tailor," Garak replied, and walked away. As he did, he whispered something to Bashir, something that the doctor was not quite sure he heard correctly but which sounded very much like, "Stay safe. I'll be back for you." O'Brien had resumed his work in the wall panel and didn't notice.

 

No, Garak wasn't a tailor. Had very likely never really been one, and certainly not any longer. Boq'ta and Amaro were the next to discover that fact. As Boq'ta worked, Amaro stood guard; the Bolian reflected that he had never been aware that Garak could be so vicious.

"Oh, I wasn't surprised," Amaro answered "They're all like that. If I could, I would have welcomed the chance to take the remaining one out myself."

"You would not. You'd be scared out of your mind."

"I doubt it. I'd be no more scared than if I were confronting some wild animal. That's what they are, really, under all that talk and all that damned smiling."

"All of them? What about Garak?" No answer. "I like Garak, actually. He's very pleasant." He searched for an instrument among the few lying near him on the ground. "Would you - would you mind getting me a coil spanner?"

"Sure." Amaro turned and retreated a few meters to an additional collection of tools; when he turned back, Boq'ta was already dead, killed by the Cardassian soldier who was in turn almost simultaneously shot and killed by Garak. Amaro stared in shock as Garak took the tool from his hands.

"I was just - I was just getting him a coil spanner, and then this... We were just talking - just now, just a second ago..."

Garak gave him a sympathetic look. "That's very unfortunate. And do you know what the worst thing about it is?" Amaro dazedly shook his head. "This isn't a coil spanner." Garak quickly moved behind him and plunged the tool into Amaro's stomach. The security guard went limp and collapsed to the ground. "It's a flux coupler."

 

"This is bad," O'Brien said, after the third attempt to reach either Boq'ta or Amaro. "No answer. Nothing. And I can't keep using the communicator or we'll be sitting ducks here."

"Then I suggest we go find them." Bashir also tried his communicator, then checked his tricorder one more time. Still not working. "We'll just have to be as quiet as possible and hope that Garak has already found the other soldier by now."

They crept silently along the passage, and as they reached the habitat ring, the first body they saw was indeed that of the Cardassian soldier - with their Bolian colleague sprawled close by, obviously already dead. Bashir heard a cough and looked wildly around him, until he saw another body in the shadows next to the wall. He ran to him with O'Brien, who knelt down and cradled Amaro's head against his arm. Amaro's eyes struggled to focus as he breathed ragged gasps, blood trickling down his face. 

"Garak..."

"They killed Garak?" Bashir was frantic. He had partially removed his jacket in an attempt to find a soft surface on which to pillow his patient's head. But it was too late.

"No. Garak stabbed me." One more choking breath and Amaro, too, was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Ten minutes later. O'Brien checked the security of the lock one more time - to his great relief, it seemed to be holding. 

"I still don't think he did it."

"Hmm?" 

"Chief, I don't think it was Garak who stabbed him."

O'Brien sighed. "You're saying Amaro would lie. With his last, dying breath, he'd tell a deliberate lie because he had no other thought in his mind then except to wrongly implicate Garak."

"Well, no, of course not, but... he was always very suspicious of... of Cardassians in general..."

"Julian, that's ridiculous." O'Brien wiped his face on his sleeve and slumped down to the floor next to Bashir. "That is the most stupid, the most ridiculous thing I ever heard." Bashir stared straight ahead and didn't react to the reprimand. "For one thing, Amaro might have had his difficulties adjusting to a truce with the Cardassians, but he's dead - he was killed by one of them. Let's treat his last attempt to help us with respect - he gave us critical information." Bashir closed his eyes in resignation.

"And as for the other thing - don't forget that Garak has been exposed to that compound too, no doubt. Maybe when he first found the stasis tubes. So it's not really him, in a way - it's what he's turned into. But one thing's for sure."

"What's that?" Bashir finally whispered, still with his eyes closed and his head slumped forward.

"We should have gone after the Cardassian soldiers immediately, not worried about the communications grid. We should have attacked first and not waited for them to find us. You realize it's what we're going to have to do now - with Garak."

"What do you mean?" Bashir opened his eyes and stared in horror at O'Brien.

"I mean - we're going to have to go after him."

"To do what? To kill him?"

"If that's what it takes to stop him - then yes. We might have to kill him."

"Oh God, no, Chief - don't even consider that. There has to be another way. This is Garak we're talking about! Our friend, remember? Our ally?" He began breathing harder. "You can't be serious. Hasn't there been enough killing? Those soldiers didn't have the memories Garak has of working with us, or helping us, or -" He stopped; a speaker was crackling to life in the tiny storeroom.

"I found the last kotra piece I was looking for, Chief! In the station commander's office - he had a magnificent set, even though it did get a little scattered in the withdrawal. Care to play a game with me?" Bashir and O'Brien glanced disbelievingly at each other - Garak had just given them his location. Deliberately? 

The voice continued, in a low and almost mocking tone, "And this time, it's just like you wanted - it's real life. Very high stakes, too, Chief - extremely high. Life and death. Maybe your life and my death. Or maybe - our doctor friend. I think we should play for him. I think that would make a fascinating game! Wouldn't that be fun?" The two men simultaneously grabbed phasers and ran.

But the commander's office was empty when they arrived - not a sign of Garak, and it took less than a split second for O'Brien to curse his own stupidity for falling into such an obvious trap. Bashir ventured back out into Ops and as O'Brien followed behind, the door locked - he was now trapped in the office, with Bashir on the other side of the panels. In another instant, Garak leapt out from his hiding place and O'Brien watched, almost in slow motion, as Garak held a phaser to the doctor's head and proceeded to drag him away. Bashir, however, looked more shocked than terrified and barely struggled.

 

Bashir awoke in a half-seated position, propped up against a wall in another section of the station - he had no idea where, but assumed the area couldn't be far from Ops, as he doubted Garak would have carried him more than a few hundred meters after stunning him. And that - his reason for doing that - was another unknown. Garak had been virtually unreachable, and the more Bashir tried to reason with him, the more he withdrew until Bashir, emboldened at his captor's preoccupation, finally made an attempt to run. He didn't even recall hitting the ground. 

He tried to move, but his hands were tied tightly behind his back and his legs were loosely tied in front of him. Garak was nowhere to be seen, so Bashir rolled over sideways and attempted awkwardly to stand. A voice from the shadows stopped him instantly.

"Please stay where you are, doctor, or I'll have to stun you again - and you wouldn't want that. This headache is unbearable."

"Garak?" 

The Cardassian stepped forward. Bashir had never seen him sweating so profusely, and his eyes were hooded, pupils dilated. This was worse than he expected, but he tried again.

"Garak? Garak, why are you doing this?"

"I would think that's obvious, doctor. To keep you from him. To stop him."

"Stop him? Stop him from doing what?"

"Oh, I think you know." Garak began to pace, eyes darting nervously down the passage. "I think you know very well. You've spent too much time with him to play the innocent with me."

"Play the innocent?" Bashir blinked and shifted uncomfortably against the wall; his arms were twisted quite painfully against his back. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it ends here. This is it. I've taken you from your filthy human friend. You're mine now." 

"Yours now?" Bashir looked up into his face but Garak turned away. "Yours? As in your prisoner? But Garak - what for? We're just trying to get off this station - all of us - neither one of us mean you any -"

"Shut up!" Garak cuffed him across the face; Bashir, knocked off balance, toppled sideways - the blow itself was luckily not very hard. But it was hard enough to shock him. "You don't talk. Not any more. I'll talk, and you'll listen. I don't want to hear your voice reciting all your inane excuses and lies. From now on, there's only one word I'll allow you to say, when you speak to me at all - 'yes.' Do you understand?" Bashir nodded. "I said, do you understand?" He roughly pulled Bashir back up into a sitting position.

"Yes." He almost added, "You said I wasn't supposed to talk any more," but instantly thought better of it. It seemed to be wisest to let Garak continue his tirade, work through his drug-induced rage, and hope that the fact that they were friends would count for something, would get through to him somehow. There was obviously jealousy mixed in with contempt for O'Brien - was Garak jealous of the fact that the two of them were close? Was he so lonely and so isolated on DS9 that he was now fixated on the companionship he longed for but thought he couldn't have? Or was there something else too - he had called O'Brien a "filthy" human - was it possible that the insult was meant to convey more than just Cardassian superiority? If so... Bashir's heart began to pound. Garak seemed to sense the change in his attitude and approached him.

"I see you're afraid of me."

"Well, of course I am - but this isn't you. The Garak I know wouldn't hit me, or trap me here and threaten other people -"

"And kill them." Garak smiled. "And kill them, doctor. I killed Amaro. Contemptible, racist human garbage, just like all the rest of them." Bashir shook his head. "Just like your filthy lover O'Brien."

So. That was it. This was going to be bad. "Just like my what?" Bashir faltered.

"You heard me. And didn't I tell you what I allowed you to say?" Bashir didn't answer. "Just like your filthy human lover. They're all filthy, every last one of them. So I've rescued you from all that. Aren't you grateful?" Bashir simply stared back at him. "I asked you a question - aren't you grateful?" Bashir shook his head; Garak cuffed him again, much harder this time. "You know what you're supposed to say. Say it."

"No - Garak, please, you don't know -"

"Say it, doctor." Garak grabbed hold of Bashir's hair with one hand and pulled his head back, and with the other he jammed a phaser against the side of the doctor's face. Bashir had no choice but to look directly up at him; Garak's eyes were unreadable, his expression grim. "Say it, or I'll kill you. O'Brien is your lover, isn't he? Your dirty human lover. Isn't he?"

Bashir sensed it, sensed the ominous escalation in Garak's mood, sensed the total lack of empathy in the Cardassian at that moment, knew that pressing a control on a phaser would be as easy for him now as would patting Bashir on the head. He couldn't do that to Garak - he could not let him kill again and have to deal with that remorse for the rest of his life, unless O'Brien got to him first. He couldn't win against this total irrationality - he'd have to acquiesce. Or would Garak kill him in rage if he agreed with him? But the odds were much less in his favor if he continued to fight him. 

So he said it. "Yes."

"Ah." Garak sank back into a crouch. "I thought so." He regarded Bashir for a moment; Bashir held his breath. "At least you admit it." His fingers spread and he ruffled Bashir's hair, his other hand still holding the phaser to his face. Bashir flinched. "Very good. You're learning. You're mine now. You always were." Bashir didn't move. "I have one more thing to do so you'll have to stay here and wait. I'll be back for you." He strode off.

"Garak!"

"Hmm?" He turned.

"Garak - Garak, please, don't do this. You're not a killer, Garak - not any more. You wouldn't do this. You've been infected somehow - you don't know what you're doing -" 

A savage kick in his side sent him doubling over in pain. "How dare you presume to tell me what I know and what I don't know. You're pathetic - you pretend to be powerful but you're weak, you're pitiful and weak. All of you are. Every one of you." He seemed to consider an idea. "At least O'Brien tries to be a worthy opponent." Bashir continued to gasp; the sight caused the Cardassian, imperceptibly, to soften his expression. Bashir didn't notice. "You're going to be fine until I get back. I just have one more thing I need to do and then I can take care of you. In fact - in fact, I can stay right here." He thumbed a control on a wall panel. "It's over, Chief. I've got him. If you want him, you're going to have to fight for him." He paused, smiling. "I saw your eyes when I took him from you. You wanted to kill me. You still do."

O'Brien's voice, clear and resolute, came over the communicator. "I don't want to kill you, Garak. I don't want to kill anyone. I just want the doctor back. That's all."

"I'll bet you do. But you can't have him - not any more. He's mine now. He always was - you just didn't know it."

"If you hurt him -"

"I won't hurt him. Not any more than he deserves. But you, O'Brien - time for you to admit it. You're the killer. You're a predator, just like me."

"I'm nothing like you." Bashir had partially roused himself and Garak cast him a warning glance.

"Oh, but you are. You proved it at Setlik Three. How many Cardassians did you kill there?"

"I don't remember." Don't debate him, Chief, Bashir silently pleaded - don't engage him or you'll rile him up even further.

"Oh, but you do. I'm sure you do. Wouldn't you like to add one more?"

"No, Garak. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill anyone. I just want the doctor back, safe and unharmed."

"You'll never get him back." Garak had grabbed hold of Bashir's hair once again and roughly jerked his head back as he roared in the direction of the comm unit. "You'll never touch him again. I'll kill him first before I let you near him."

Bashir swallowed hard. This was now beyond his ability to deal with; all reasoning was useless, he was bound too tightly to fight, and his mind struggled to accept the fact that the man he was beginning to love, the Cardassian who preoccupied his mind and sent him into hundreds of pleasant and thrilling speculations, had murdered a colleague and was now threatening to murder him too - or to do something almost as unthinkable. Garak had knelt down next to him, still not releasing his hold, then began trailing his hand down the doctor's face to his neck, before grasping his chin and tilting it up. "Look at me," he murmured.

Bashir bravely stared into his blue eyes, not blinking. Not breathing. 

"I'm going to show him you belong to me. No more evasion - no more surrendering yourself to his revolting body. You're going to surrender to me now." Bashir's heart pounded. O'Brien, over the speaker, was pleading with Garak; Bashir wasn't sure how much of the current threat he heard. 

"Garak - this has gone on long enough. Can we finish it? You and me? And leave the doctor out of it?"

"Yes, Chief," Garak, smiled, his gaze never wavering from Bashir's face. "But the doctor is most definitely going to be in it. The doctor is the prize. And keep in mind that kotra is a very complicated game. You may win and very well still lose the prize." He smiled even wider but his eyes were cold.


	6. Chapter 6

"Garak..." O'Brien sounded less confident now, less assured. "Garak... I'm asking you again. I'm begging you. Let's finish this, you and me. Once and for all."

Another grin. "I'd like nothing better. That sounds like a perfect plan. On the Promenade. No weapons." He touched a control. "Now move!" 

"No weapons. Deal." Garak had remotely unlocked the door trapping O'Brien in the office in Ops, but the distance to the Promenade would take him at least ten minutes to cover. O'Brien knew that a lot could happen in ten minutes, including the death of Bashir - on the other hand, that could already have occurred. Garak would not be forced into surrendering his "prize." Too bad the doctor had never realized what he was getting into, back on the station - but even O'Brien never expected it would end this way. And even if he had - would it have done any good to warn Bashir? The man was in love - he saw it even if no one else did, least of all the doctor himself. O'Brien began to run.

 

"I'm sorry to have to increase your discomfort just a little more, doctor," Garak rasped, as he hoisted Bashir partway to his feet and re-tied him to a pillar against the wall. "This will make it more difficult for your hero to rescue you." Bashir, in protest, went limp, which only seemed to annoy the Cardassian more - Bashir braced himself for another blow across the face but Garak, instead, stopped and regarded him. "I think it's time to demonstrate whose you are. Don't you agree? Wouldn't you like that?" Bashir's eyes never left Garak's face but he said nothing. "I asked you - wouldn't you like that?" Garak slammed hard against him and bit into his neck; Bashir closed his eyes at the jolt of pain but remained silent. 

"Do you like that?" Garak panted, grabbing hold of Bashir's hips. "Tell me you do." His hands then reached for the fastening of the Starfleet uniform, while his mouth continued to nip the side of Bashir's face. "Tell me you do," he murmured again, breath hot, body again slamming Bashir against the pillar.

This was not going to end by appealing to Garak's reason or even his passion - Bashir choked out, "You don't want to do this - not this way - you'll regret it -" Wrong tactic. That sounded like a threat and Garak only laughed and bit harder as Bashir tried ineffectually to twist away.

"I don't think so, doctor. I regret nothing except all the times I allowed you out of my sight. On Cardassia, I would have whipped you into bloody pieces for behaving that way. Even a whore is more loyal."

Bashir had a sudden thought at that, a sudden flash of insight. It probably wouldn't work, but it was worth trying and would buy him more time. "Elim," he suddenly whispered, "Elim. I am loyal. I'm yours." Garak stopped dead and looked Bashir in the eyes. "I always was. You just didn't know it."

Nothing. No reaction except a dazed sort of glare as sweat trickled down Garak's eyeridges. Then his expression darkened and the moment was over. "More lies. More lies to protect your own deceitful skin. But it's late - we'll have to finish this later. I need to get the audience ready." He abruptly turned and ran; Bashir then heard him dragging something across the floor and saw, to his horrified shock, Amaro's body being propped up against the wall a few meters away from him. Next came Stolzoff, Boq'ta, Pechetti - and further down the corridor, Garak had resettled the two Cardassian soldiers, already retrieved, into position. He worked feverishly, and as he worked, he kept muttering to himself in Kardasi, almost as if he were speaking to the cadavers. It was unsettling and became even more so when one of the bodies fell sideways and Garak propped it back up and re-arranged the clothing almost as a tailor with a mannequin. "Is he aware at all of what he's doing?" Bashir thought. "Is Garak inside that mind any more?"

Evidently so. He suddenly turned and looked at Bashir with an uncertain, quizzical expression that was so much the Garak of old that Bashir inhaled sharply. "Garak? What is it?"

"I was just wondering what to do with O'Brien when I'm finished. I'd like to keep him as a trophy too - but I don't think I should give you the satisfaction of having him nearby."

"Oh." Bashir's face fell.

"Cheer up, doctor. This will all be over soon. Once I purge Empok Nor of all of them, you and I will have this place to ourselves."

"With no power? No food? No water?" Bashir, panicking, couldn't help trying to reason with the Cardassian after all; Garak stared back at him blankly, not comprehending. He raised an eyeridge and said something in Kardasi, some phrase Bashir didn't recognize. Then he smiled brightly and turned once again to one of the bodies. The sound of running footsteps, nearer and nearer, echoed down the passage.

"Ah! There you are!" Garak exclaimed happily as O'Brien rounded a bend. "Just in time! And look who I've brought to cheer you on!" He gestured to the Starfleet crew. Then his arm swung around and he pointed toward the two Cardassian soldiers. "I have two supporters of my own, you see - oh, they may be fewer in number but they're no less loyal." O'Brien, covered with dirt and sweat and still panting from his run, made no answer. "And then there's another person watching us. Someone keenly interested in the outcome of our little skirmish." He inclined his head toward Bashir. "Frankly, I'm not quite sure where his loyalties are. Why don't you tell us, doctor?"

Bashir was all the while surreptitiously attempting to unfasten his hands; when Garak had re-tied him, he had inadvertently loosened the tension of the bonds around his wrists. But it was no use, and he could make no real movements without attracting even more of Garak's attention. He slumped back against the pillar and shook his head wordlessly.

"I asked you to tell us. To whom are you loyal now?" Garak glared at him. "Don't make me have to beat it out of you. You remember what you're allowed to say." O'Brien tried to catch Bashir's eye, to communicate in some way, but to no avail - Bashir couldn't take his eyes from Garak's face. "So I'm going to ask you again. Are you loyal to me? Mine alone?"

Bashir swallowed. "Yes." O'Brien's eyes widened in concern and disbelief, then darted back to Garak.

"I thought so. And do you want me to get rid of our friend here?"

Bashir swallowed again. Garak moved toward him. "No! No - Garak, please -" Garak took the phaser rifle and smacked him across the forehead with it; Bashir gasped in pain and let his head flop down to his chest.

"Garak!" O'Brien shouted. "Leave him out of this! He has nothing to do with this!" Garak laughed.

"Oh, come now, Chief. He's the prize, remember? He's why you need to win. Our dear doctor friend - you need to fight for him if you want him back. But you'll find I'm very reluctant to give him up. Very reluctant." He raised the rifle and pointed the barrel at Bashir. O'Brien, stifling his panic, assumed an expression of annoyance.

"I thought we said no weapons."

Garak, playing along and enjoying the game, feigned a look of confusion. "Yes we did. No weapons. So how did this get here?" His eyes traveled to the phaser rifle in his hands, then back over to O'Brien. "All right. I agree. Put yours down."

"You first."

"Put it down, or we won't be playing for the doctor any more, much as I hate to give him up." He waited. "You may as well say good-bye to him. Now." He again aimed the rifle at Bashir's head.

"Don't do it, Chief!" Bashir shouted, gathering his courage. "Don't do it. He's going to kill you! He told me he was going to kill you!"

"Ah, doctor," Garak purred at him as he reached out to stroke his face, "I do plan to kill him. Of course I do. But not this way - I'm not going to shoot an unarmed man! What fun would that be?" He blinked, as if in an attempt to clear his mind. "So tell your friend to put his weapon down or I WILL shoot him." 

O'Brien crept forward and gingerly placed a phaser onto the floor, then retreated a few paces. Garak, half smiling, observed the procedure with interest.

"You wouldn't happen to have another one, would you?"

O'Brien set a second phaser down and positioned a tricorder carefully on top of it. "Naughty, naughty," Garak smiled. Bashir watched in sudden and total comprehension and horror. But Garak, either because of his drug-induced haze or simply because he was not experienced yet in Starfleet tactics, didn't seem to have a clue as to the trap O'Brien was trying to set. Bashir, on the other hand, knew it instantly. 

O'Brien had programmed a delayed overload into the tricorder, and when it received the signal, it would explode and take the phasers out with it. And, very likely, take Garak out with it also - the blast would almost certainly kill him. Bashir closed his eyes and began to pray, disjointed wordless prayers that centered on peace and hope and rescue. For a Starfleet engineer who had turned out to be an unlikely soulmate for him, almost a brother. And for a Cardassian who Bashir knew could be so much better, so much nobler, than he was then, who had never really been given a chance to prove it. A Cardassian who would be killed, in effect, by his precious State after all, years after it had rejected him. What a reward for all his loyalty. For all his love. For all his misguided, hopeless, unrequited love. And not just for the State, but for - Bashir? Love? 

He heard O'Brien say "Your turn," and then the sound of something else, probably Garak's phaser rifle, hitting the ground. When he opened his eyes again, the two men were circling each other, eyes never leaving each other's faces. A parry, a retreat, a kick, no advantage, no one with the upper hand - until Garak knocked O'Brien to the ground and loomed over him, gloating.

"All I see now is fear, Chief, Even more fear than our doctor friend showed. Where's your bloodlust?" O'Brien struggled for breath. "Where's your fighting spirit? I thought you'd be fighting for your lover now. I thought you'd be eager to kill me for him."

"I told you, Garak," O'Brien panted, disregarding the rest of his words, "I don't want to kill you."

"Not even for your lover?" Garak advanced on O'Brien. "Not even to get him back? To take him from me? I haven't touched him yet, Chief - not really. I'm saving that for later, after you're dead. I'm going to drive every trace of you out of him. I might even let you watch before I finish you off." O'Brien merely grunted as he struggled to rise; Garak moved closer. "Outmatched already? I'm extremely disappointed in you, Chief - I'm sure Doctor Bashir is too. It's just as you said. Maybe you're not a soldier any more."

"You're right, I'm not a soldier. I'm an engineer," O'Brien replied, almost too calmly, as in one fluid motion he rose to his feet, touched his communicator, and leapt over a stack of cargo crates. Bashir closed his eyes and braced himself. The phaser explosion knocked Garak instantly off his feet and send him skidding backward several meters.

Bashir hesitantly opened his eyes. Garak's body lay at an angle he couldn't quite see, but he heard only silence. 

"Is he dead? Did you kill him?" His heart, his breath, his thoughts, frozen, suspended in time. Nothing but the sound of O'Brien's slow and careful footsteps over to the Cardassian body lying on the ground. Nothing else.

"No." Relief in his voice. "I didn't."


	7. Chapter 7

O'Brien entered the infirmary and was greeted by the nurse and by Bashir. The doctor hadn't required much recovery time after the ordeal - the injuries he had received were not severe, and the bruise on his forehead was easily regenerated. He had deemed it best, though, to treat Garak only while the Cardassian was sleeping and to stay out of the room in which he was presently convalescing. O'Brien, on the other hand, after ascertaining the extent of Garak's injuries and his present condition, had asked for and received permission to see him.

"We've neutralized the psychotropic compound that was affecting his nervous system," Bashir explained quietly. "The drug, according to some of my research, brought out the worst parts of him and allowed them to take over. However, I prefer to think of it as a severely violent and of course involuntary effect. He wasn't in control of his actions, but unfortunately he's going to remember what he did. I can't do anything about that."

"So you haven't spoken to him at all yet?" O'Brien asked.

"No. No, I thought it was better not to. I'm going to let you do that first, now that he's conscious most of the time. I'll go in later." O'Brien nodded. "I guess... we'll have a lot to say to each other." O'Brien nodded again, uncomfortably.

"I can't imagine what he's going to say to you."

"Whatever it is - you know that wasn't his fault, Chief. You do know that, right? None of it?" O'Brien slowly nodded. "Please don't mention anything about that to him. We have to work through it together, slowly - he and I."

"If you say so. He's asked for help transferring off DS9." Bashir gasped. "Don't worry - there's no way Sisko can do that for him. But I thought I should tell you that he's asked."

"Thank you, Chief." Bashir walked with him the few steps to the door. "I'll deal with that too. This will all just take time." He was silent for a few seconds. "Just time. I want him back. Very much so." He hesitated, not sure if his friend at all understood, or wished to understand.

"I know." O'Brien, despite himself, reached out and touched him very briefly on the shoulder, then turned and entered Garak's room. As the door slid closed, Bashir peeked in and saw Garak open his eyes.

"I wanted you to know that we salvaged the plasma manifold. It's being installed right now." O'Brien stood next to the bed, not quite meeting the Cardassian's gaze.

"Mission accomplished," Garak replied faintly.

"I guess... I guess it didn't go the way we expected, did it." Garak shook his head. "There's going to be an inquest, but the effect of the drug has been fully documented. You won't need to worry."

"I'm not worried. I'm ready to accept all the consequences for my actions." At O'Brien's murmur of consolation, Garak added, "Chief... can I ask a favor?" O'Brien nodded. "Please express my deepest regrets to - to Mr. Amaro's wife. I'd do it myself but I can't imagine she'd be in any mood to speak with me."

O'Brien nodded again and stood awkwardly looking down at the bed as Garak shifted very slightly, very stiffly. "Julian says the blast broke a few of your ribs."

"It could have been worse," Garak sighed. "If I'd been any closer to that phaser, I could have been killed." He gave O'Brien a look that said they were both fully aware of that fact. O'Brien decided to be honest and give voice to it.

"Don't take this the wrong way... but that was the plan."

"I understand."

A pause. "I'll see you around." Garak nodded; O'Brien, watching him, suddenly offered a small but nonetheless sincere smile of encouragement and then departed. 

 

An hour later, Bashir quietly entered the room and sat down next to the bed. Garak turned very slightly away and pretended to be sleeping. The diagnostic monitors, of course, clearly indicated that he was awake, with a waking heart rate and respiration - but Bashir decided that he had an unfair advantage in that knowledge and continued to wait. He held a padd in one hand but didn't read it; instead, he simply sat and watched Garak. Silently watched him.

After about ten minutes, Garak finally spoke, without opening his eyes. "I'm sorry - I was sound asleep. I didn't hear anyone come in. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Garak."

No answer.

"Garak - yes, there's something you can do for me. You can let me talk to you. I think we'd better."

"Oh no, doctor. Please - I can't. Not now." He turned fully away from Bashir, who then reached out and gently laid a hand on his arm. The Cardassian froze. "Please - please don't. I need to sleep. I'm afraid I'm unable to say much of anything now."

"Garak." Bashir paused. "I heard you had asked Sisko for help transferring to another station." Again no answer. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that." Garak turned then and regarded him with wide, uneasy blue eyes.

"I thought as much. I've already expressed to Chief O'Brien that I'm willing to pay any penalty for what I've done, both to Amaro and - and to you." His expression was one of misery. "I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you. I can't comprehend how I could have killed an innocent person, and then turned to my friend and threatened to... Well, I'm sure you remember."

Bashir, slightly taken aback, interrupted him. "Garak, I'm not asking you to stay because I need to inflict some sort of penalty on you. I'm asking because I want you to stay. As my friend - Elim Garak. As even more than a friend. That person on Empok Nor wasn't you."

"Oh yes it was." Garak almost shrank into the thin mattress but his face held a look of determination. "Yes, it most definitely was. The drug didn't take me out of myself, doctor, just as it didn't take those two soldiers out of themselves. It simply amplified what was already there. And I don't think you want to associate any longer with that person... now that you know what's inside."

"Nonsense." Garak looked shocked. "Complete and utter nonsense. That person wasn't you, no matter how much you may try to convince me." 

"I can understand why you're saying this - you're a very forgiving man, usually far too forgiving -"

"I'm not forgiving anything, Garak, because there's nothing to forgive. That wasn't you." Bashir leaned closer to the bed and took the Cardassian's hand; Garak, startled again, was too shocked to pull the hand away.

"It wasn't?" He blinked.

"No, it wasn't. Do you know who you are to me?" Garak silently shook his head, his eyes fixed on Bashir. "Then I'll tell you. You're a man who wanted very much for me to read 'Shadow of the Evening,' for one thing. A man who wanted me to know that Cardassians can be kind and loving and trusting." Garak started to shake his head once more. "Who wanted me to know that Cardassians take care of people in trouble and show compassion to them."

"I didn't show compassion, doctor. I killed a man, I was ready to kill another, and I can't even imagine what was going to happen to you - what I was going to do. It's disgusting, what I did. It's unforgivable. You have other friends - Chief O'Brien, for one - who'd never even consider hurting -" 

Bashir pretended not to hear him. "A man who wanted me to know how much he cares for me, but was always too afraid to show it. As I was too - for too long. A man who -"

"A man who must never be allowed near you again. Not after what I did, what I said. I can't even fathom why you wished to be alone here with me now. There are no words I can find to tell you how sorry I am. But I hope, in a few days, I'll be able to make my preparations to leave, and -"

"Do you want to go?" Bashir's eyes locked onto the Cardassian's face. He moved closer and squeezed his hand even harder. "I'm asking you to be honest with me now - do you want to go?"

Garak's voice was husky. "No... No. Of course I don't. I want to stay."

"Then stay. I want you to stay. I want it very much. More than you know."

"I can't. I can't imagine what you must think of me. I can't imagine a future as your - friend - after what I've done..."

"Then don't imagine it. Don't think about it. Just stay with me." He gazed intently into Garak's eyes, then smiled and held up the padd. "And now - I had hoped you might let me read to you a little. It must get boring lying here alone and quiet all day. I wanted to do this for you. So will you let me?" Garak very uncertainly smiled back and gave a barely perceptible nod. "Good." Bashir grinned again and then clasped the Cardassian's fingers so tightly that Garak had no choice but to hold on. "'Shadow of the Evening.' Hmm. A very good friend of mine lent me this book - said I'd really enjoy it. Well, I'll agree on one point - it's certainly a lot less boring than 'The Never-Ending Sacrifice.'" He slyly watched as Garak's eyes widened with indignation.

"Doctor! I'll have you know that 'The Never-Ending Sacrifice' is the finest example of -"

Bashir laughed and Garak, realizing he was being teased, smiled in relief and closed his eyes, then brought his free hand around to grasp Bashir's arm and squeeze as he settled back against the pillow, the doctor's soothing voice filling the little room on Terok Nor with peace. 

 

The End


End file.
